When Memory Burns
by wildsky
Summary: Oneshot. A portrait of Meredith Gordon. Who was the girl that Nathan Petrelli fell in love with? Please read and review!


**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em (unless they're originals). Please don't sue me. It's **_**so**_** not worth it.**

**A/N: **For any Dark Angel readers who are gritting their teeth because I wrote this instead of BIS, I say: My brain is weird and wouldn't let me snap back into DA-mode until I finished this.

**WHEN MEMORY BURNS**

**My name is Meredith Gordon and fourteen years ago I did more with my powers than burn down a building.**

**I burned down the only life I'd ever known…**

_I remember my mother's voice_.

I used to wish that I sounded more like her. She had the kind of voice that you could fall asleep listening to… smooth and smoky with the typical Texan drawl. She sang lullabies when I was little. She tried so hard to be a good mother even though she was barely twenty when I came along.

It wasn't her fault everything got messed up. She was fine when it was just me – she could handle one child. The birth of my little brother made things harder for her. Two sisters later she was an exhausted wreck pretty much all the time. She stopped singing lullabies and started shouting to try to keep us in line. We shouted back.

_I remember how my father smelled more than what he looked like_.

Cigarettes and beer… or maybe whiskey if he'd gotten paid. He wasn't really around that much. When he was home, we learned to stay out of his way. He used to hit Mom when he drank. He blamed her for his miserable excuse for a life – stuck with four kids, no job and responsibilities that he chose to ignore. We were probably the only kids on earth who _wanted_ their parents to split up. Things would have been so much better if he'd just followed through on his threats and left in the first place.

_I remember how my little brother and sisters were always up to something_.

My brother Jimmy loved playing practical jokes. It drove me crazy, especially when we were teenagers. I found bugs in my bed and snails in my underwear drawer. I nearly choked him with the plastic snake he threw at me while I was in the shower. I'd hide my diary but he always found it and used to torment me by reading it and quoting bits of my entries during dinner. He came pretty close to getting a fork in the eye more times than I could count.

My sister Kaitlyn used to mother everyone. She was so grown-up compared to the rest of us… even our parents. I don't think Kait was ever really a kid – she was too serious. She did all her homework and ate all her vegetables. She bugged everyone to clean up their rooms and do the dishes. She even put worm tablets in our dessert when she was nine. I'll bet she's married by now with the perfect husband, the colonial, the two point five kids and the collie. It's all she ever really wanted anyway.

My youngest sister was the dreamer of the family. Sam would draw and tell stories whenever she had the chance. She was always going crazy with cameras, taking pictures of everything and everybody. The walls of her room were plastered with images. It was like a mosaic – a huge, messy, chaotic mosaic. People used to say that Sam looked exactly like me when I was that age – except for her eyes. They were green instead of blue. She had the same features and blonde hair. I wonder if we still share a resemblance. I was eleven when she was born, so she'd be twenty-four now. I haven't seen her since she was ten.

_I remember growing up in Kermit in an old house_.

It wasn't much but it was warm and dry and clean. The couches were a bit shabby and you sank into them so much that getting up was always tricky but they were great to curl up in when it rained. I had to share a room with my sisters, which wasn't all that much fun, especially once I started high school and wanted my privacy. We had a beaten-up old Volvo that backfired almost every time we drove it. I hated that we didn't have a lot of money. I used to fantasize about having a big house and a fancy car. I wanted a better life but deep down I always knew it wasn't going to happen. Not for someone like me.

_I remember the day that fire answered when I called. _

Sam had broken the remote control and my dad smacked her across the head so hard she ended up with a black eye and a split lip. I was seventeen and I was sick of it. I yelled at him to stop and he raised his hand to hit me instead.

I exploded. Literally.

The couch burst into flames right next to him and he backed up so fast he almost tripped over. I don't know if he guessed that it was me. Hell, he might have figured it was a sign from God and decided beating on his kids wasn't the best idea he'd ever had. Whatever he thought, he ran out and didn't come back. Jimmy managed to put the fire out while Kaitlyn and I made sure Sam was okay. When Mom got home from working as a waitress, she saw the empty bottles and the burnt furniture and assumed Dad had done it. We didn't bother to tell her the truth. She wouldn't have believed us anyway. Couches don't just spontaneously combust. It's not possible.

Sam slept with me that night. She was scared that Dad would come back. Once Kaitlyn was asleep, she asked me how I did it. I tried to say that I didn't but Sam just snuggled up a bit more and said she wouldn't tell anyone. Kaitlyn never talked about it – actually, I think she repressed the whole thing. Jimmy just shrugged it off like he did with everything but Sam caught me practicing a few times. She'd just smile and pretend to zip up her lips and throw away the key. She thought it was cool to have a big sister with powers.

_I remember the night I met Nathan_.

I was nineteen and he was handsome and smart. He gave me butterflies. I know that sounds stupid but it's true. I loved him for a while but I wasn't naïve enough to believe it would last. His family was rich and he was the oldest son. I could tell they expected a lot from him. Being with me was an escape from their expectations.

I'd like to think that he loved me and maybe he did but in the end it was enough that he cared. That was more than I'd gotten from most of the other boys who'd chased me because I was blonde and pretty. He tried his best but we were from different worlds. The day he met my father proved that. I wish I could have found a way to avoid that. I didn't want Nathan to see where I really came from. Until then all he'd been able to do was guess.

_I remember the day the home pregnancy test came back positive_.

I think I sat in the bathroom and stared at that little plastic stick for about half an hour, trying not to panic. The first thing my brother asked was if I knew who the father was. I really wanted to hit him for that. I wasn't an angel but I didn't sleep around anywhere near as much as he imagined. Of course I knew.

The look on Nathan's face was… interesting. All sorts of emotions flashed across his face. Fear was one of the worst, then anger and worry and confusion. He didn't know how to handle it any better than I did and those rich parents of his didn't help. They told him to clean up the mess. When I told him I wanted to keep the baby, he didn't say much. Then his mother flew down from New York and marched me down to the nearest clinic, telling me that it was for the best and I didn't want to ruin my life, did I?

I didn't realize at the time that Nathan had no idea his mother had taken matters into her own hands. I was still trying to get my head around what was happening and it never occurred to me that she was going behind Nathan's back until he walked in and gave me this accusing look that made me feel sick.

It's hard to get Nathan Petrelli to show what he's really feeling. Even then he was guarded, keeping his real feelings to himself most of the time. At that moment, I could read him loud and clear. This wasn't what he wanted. He thought I'd changed my mind without telling him. I could tell he was angry at his mother as well but he'd expected something like this from her. It suddenly hit me that his family, in many ways, was no better than mine.

I baulked.

I got up and asked him to take me home. He took my hand and led me outside to his car, ignoring his mother as she tried to convince him that it was the right thing to do for everyone concerned. I knew he didn't defy his parents often but I was glad he chose to stand up for me and the baby. I was a scared kid and so was he but we figured things out. He wanted to help but he couldn't stay because he was still in college. He sent money instead, helping to pay for doctors and baby supplies. I sent him some of the ultrasound photos. I don't know if he kept them.

_I remember Angela Petrelli turning up on my doorstep_.

I was eight months pregnant and she told me that under no circumstances was Nathan's name to appear on the birth certificate. If I co-operated, she promised that the baby and I would be well looked-after. She knew what my weakness was and she used it. I took the money and moved into a nice apartment block that I used to walk past and wish I could live in. I loved it there. Nathan guessed pretty quickly where the money had come from but he didn't know why and I didn't tell him.

When my due date arrived, Nathan came down to Kermit again. I hadn't been able to decide on a name and I asked him if he had any preferences. He got kind of quiet for a while, just listening while I read off the list of possibilities I'd been agonizing over for weeks.

"Claire," he said softly, thoughtfully, as he stared off into space. "I like Claire."

It sounded right when he said it. It was a pretty, classic sort of name. I smiled and agreed, relieved that the choice had finally been made. He didn't talk much that night while I couldn't stop yammering on about nothing. I think it was mostly nerves. I was glad that he was there to keep me company. I didn't want to be alone.

_I remember the first time I saw my daughter's eyes_.

They were so blue. Just like mine. The nurse took one look at Nathan and told me that her eyes would probably get darker later on but somehow I knew they wouldn't. She was so beautiful. So perfect. Nathan stood back at first, like he wasn't sure what to do or how to react. It was adorable. So I asked him if he wanted to hold her. He hesitated at first. I think he was trying not to fall in love with her. After all, vulnerability was never his strong point.

It didn't work. The moment he held Claire in his arms, his eyes changed. He was as scared as I was but he smiled a little and started slowly pacing the room with her. She just kept staring up at him with those wide blue eyes until she drifted off to sleep, her tiny fingers curled around his pinky. Sam chose that moment to snap a photo from the doorway. She showed me the picture later and I told her to keep it safe. I knew there wouldn't be many others like it… father and daughter.

_I remember the night two strange men showed up at my door_.

They said they were from the city council and were interviewing people in the neighbourhood about something. I can't remember what it was. One of them looked harmless enough with tidy brown hair and a neat suit. The other seemed quite cavalier but his shadowed blue eyes told a whole different story. A shiver went down my spine as a sixth sense kicked in and I got the feeling I shouldn't have let them in.

I went into the kitchen to make some coffee and the next thing I knew the first guy had shot me with a taser. The electricity arced through me and I reacted on instinct. My body knew what to do before my brain did.

The whole building went up like a bomb had gone off. The two men had no choice but to run… but not before I heard Claire screaming. I swear that my heart stopped. I tried to get to her room but the roof collapsed and blocked the way. I panicked and the fire echoed what I felt – it burned so hot it changed colour, turning from red and yellow to blazing blue. It was a like a supernova.

In minutes there was nothing left. Nothing of my home, my life… or my daughter. By the time the fire department arrived, it was far too late.

_I remember standing outside this old house fourteen years ago_.

It was dark and no-one saw me. I was covered in dirt and ash and I stank of smoke. All I wanted was to go inside, crawl into my old bed and cry. My beautiful little girl… my Claire was gone and I'd killed her. Then I ran and left everyone behind. I didn't go inside. I didn't say goodbye. I just turned around and walked away, afraid that those men would find me again if I stayed.

Now I'm back, standing on the crumbling sidewalk in broad daylight as I try to gather myself to knock on the door. It's been so long since I saw this place, let alone the people who used to live in it, that it seems almost alien.

I snap my fingers and light up a cigarette, inhaling deeply as I consider my options.

I could walk away again but I've already set up my trailer and it'd be a pain in the ass to skip town. I want to stay in Kermit for a while and it wouldn't be smart to let my family find out I'm alive through the grapevine.

So I knock. I hear footsteps as someone shuffles towards the door and it finally opens.

My mother just stares at me, eyes wide and mouth agape.

"Hi, Mom," I hear myself say, smiling a little and hoping that she doesn't completely freak out.

"Mere?" she says softly, her hand trembling as she reaches out to cup my cheek. She's aged decades since I last saw her. Her skin is wrinkled and her short hair is more silver than blonde. Her eyes, once so blue they were almost startling, have faded to grey and I wonder how much of that is my fault.

"Yeah," I reply with a small nod. "It's me."

She just pulls me inside and hugs me. After fourteen years of being untouchable, it's a strange feeling. I've been gone for what seems like a lifetime. I feel… distanced. She's my mother. I love her and I'm happy to see her but I'm still kind of numb. I don't really think that makes any sense but it's true.

Then it hits me.

I'm not the Meredith Gordon that left Kermit, Texas in tears, crying over the life and the child she lost.

My heart's not calling the shots anymore. Years of scamming and lying have taken care of that. I control fire. I'm not controlled by it. It comes when I call and not before. If that deceptively mild-mannered agent and his sidekick tried to take me now, I'd sear is heart out of his chest instead of destroying everything else in sight.

Nothing can hurt me now. I'm past that. The flames I create dance along my skin at my command, reflecting in my eyes, and all I feel is a tingle of warmth.

It's only the memories that burn.


End file.
